The Cure
by notallthatevil1
Summary: The omnic crisis has left the world diseased. Chaos and disorder infect and corrupt every nation. But Gabriel believes that it can be tamed and cured with and upstart ingrate he found in the Arizona desert.
1. Chapter 1

As Reyes walked down the halls of the Overwatch holding facility, studying the file of the latest mission his thoughts were on his current target. The three month sting operation agent Lindholm and him set up did not go nearly as smoothly as he would have hoped. Planting Torbjorn within the Deadlock ranks was simple enough and they were able to bait them out with that shipment of pulse rifles, but they did not count on the resistance the Deadlock enforcers were able to put up against his squad of Blackwatch agents. One in particular stood out. Jesse McCree was able to put and end permanently to five of his best men, two of which were enhanced soldiers that served beside Reyes in the omnic crisis, in addition to hospitalizing nearly the rest of his men almost single handedly with nothing more than a modified six-shooter and some homemade firecrackers. Reyes, admittedly, took more satisfaction in laying that criminal out himself than he would ever tell.

Now if Jesse was like one of the rest of the enforcers that Reyes's men were able to apprehend, then this case would be as simple as locking him up with the rest of the glorified gun runners and profiteering scum they had. Jesse Mccree was not like the rest, however. Cool under pressure, tactically gifted, and worst of all, a minor. At 17, Mcree would be back out on the streets within a year on some sort of "correctional" ten step program that some pencil pusher with a bleeding heart lobbied for. 'An orphan created by war, forced to turn to the cartels for protection that the military was unable to offer' was just the kind of puff piece that could ruin years of Reyes's work.

And Jack would probably be on the receiving end of the political backlash…

So now the question was, what to do with the boy? These thoughts were running through his mind. Planning, evaluating, replanning. One option did seem valid and particularly enticing, but the execution had to be delicate. One wrong move and the media could lash out on the powerhouse that Overwatch had become. These were Reyes's thoughts as he approached the holding cell containing one bruised and restrained teenage boy who had the wrong kind of blood on his hands.

"sleep well?" he asked the boy. It had been nearly 38 hours since he had locked the gang up in Overwatch's holding facility. Interrogation was the official reason, but keeping the captives from giving away, what could later be considered, sensitive information when going through due process was an equally important factor for their captivity. "I see you are refusing to give any information. Why is that, if you don't mind me asking?" Jesse Mccree didn't respond at first. Reyes didn't expect him to. Someone who could keep a level head while the U.N.'s most powerful military was at their door wasn't going to crack from a lack of sleep and some harsh words.

Jesse did eventually raise his head to look his captor in the eye. He was smirking. "Aw shoot, maybe I'm just a tad miffed that y'all shot through my favorite hat."

"well I'm pissed _y'all_ shot through my men." Reyes replied, not raising his voice. "you in particular, Jesse Mccree. We all know all about you and you're 'gang'. Terrorists is what you really are. Running guns and bombs to whoever's willing shill out some booze money. Who was the buyer? I know you know. Deadlock's top enforcer. Nearly twenty eight confirmed deaths at your hands over the last 5 years. Thousands if you want to count the _Dogs_ you armed. You might not have been the one calling the shots, but who ever was knew exactly where to keep you to protect their-"

"it was that dwarf, right? The German midget with the claw?" Mccree cut in.

"…He's swedish."

"Figured that whole ' _no spraken da 'nglish'_ was an act. I would shoot the bastard in half for ratting the boys out, if someone hadn't beaten me to it. Shame though. M' Bike ain't ever rode as good as it did after he gave it a look over." Reyes's knuckles were white beneath his gloves. But is face was calm and solid as stone. "Anyway, might as well lock me up already. My mother didn't raise no traitor."

"traitor?"

"you heard me right. When those bots were blowing Mesa to hell, you and your folk were gallivanting off in France. When Albuquerque was leveled, your men were in Scotland, getting your asses handed to you. And when Reno was trying desperately to hold it's own, y'all were in Egypt.

We armed Americans, because the _'Super Soldiers'_ that were supposed to be protecting American soil were away. We needed protection, and that's what deadlock had to offer. We armed whoever would pay, because we knew that it didn't matter if it were Mexico's drug lords or those mormons up in Utah, at least they'd drive bots out, protect their turf. The national guard sure as hell wasn't going to do it." Mccree's smirk was gone now. He sat their, challenging Reyes with his eyes. The decision to send the U.S.'s greatest military might abroad to try to end the war as quickly as possible was not a popular decision. The omnic threat were less present stateside, but it was still there. And this boy clearly felt the effects.

'perfect' Reyes thought to himself.

"So that's it then. You and the boys are the best defense for America? If only you and the boys were there sooner, right? Because you didn't start arms dealing till near the end. I wonder how it began? You and the boys hanging out on the weekends, having mommy making you a snack. Suddenly mommy's not there and the boys take you in. Then one of the boys asks you a favor. Keep watch, right? You don't question much, just go with it. Suddenly your keeping watch more often. Not just for the boys either. Grocery stores, cars, other gangs. You keep watch for all of them. Then it starts getting dangerous, so they give you a gun. Then one day, keeping watch, you have the use it. This happens more and more often until you and the boys suddenly are the only ones around, right? Suddenly there's no more mommies any where. How many Americans did you kill in your "crusade" to protect them, hmm?"

"shut up"

"oh, but it doesn't stop there, does it. Because the war is over now, but you still keep on keeping watch. Killing any one who gets too close. You don't even bother to think about what your "protectors" are doing with those guns. Ecuador is rotting from the inside, because you gave their blight the hardware to mow down anything that tried to stop it. You can't hardly find a street in Argentina that doesn't reek of corpses, and Los muertos is running wild in Mexico. Orphans and widows waiting up at night wondering what ever happened to their husbands and mommies. The less fortunate who do find out instead fear their own beds because of the nightmares they see. The nightmares _YOU_ helped create. You're not just criminals. You're a poison in this country and the world." Reyes tried keeping his voice level, but allowed himself to emote when the situation called. All the while watching Mccree, looking for signs of breaking from the boy. He found them. The indignation in his eyes leaving His face fixated on his hands clenched in front of him.

"Overwatch was the world's only hope for stopping the violence. Our forces were spread thin in the states, but we needed to stop the crisis . It was only getting worse, and more children were losing their families to violence every day. Jesse Mccree, I'm not asking you to turn on the friends who protected you during some of the bloodiest years of your life, I'm asking you to help the world heal from those years. I'm asking you to help the land and people you love to be safe. Truly safe. That, or rot your life away"

The silence hung in the air for longer than Reyes anticipated. Mccree for his part was outwardly still but Reyes could see cogs in his brain turning about. Weighing Reyes's words, going back and forth in his heart. Reyes knew not to interrupt. Mccree was a child, convinced he was in the right. If his plan was going to work, Mccree needed to convince himself. Hours of preaching and screaming would only get him to close himself off, and simple teenage rebellion would be the end to his plan.

"…what do you need me to do?"


	2. Chapter 2

Mccree absent mindedly rotated the cylinder of his revolver as he waited for their target to show. After a week of being smuggled into Europe and three months of intense exercises and drills ran by his new " _Commander",_ Jesse was happy to finally be outside of one of Overwatch's compounds. Even so, sitting around in some dive bar in one of those not Germany countries, Latvia his new boss called it, waiting for some two-bit middle man in the gun running game was not his idea of a good time. Jesse ran countless jobs similar to this with the gang, but the target was always something physical that they could bag and bail. Now his target was informatIon , but the job was still the same and the wait before was always the hardest part. Jesse kept busy rotating the cylinder and periodically twirling the gun. It was habit he picked up to keep his mind clear.

Click

Click

Click

"For the love of all that is good in the world, please stop! You've been clicking that gun of yours for the last ten minutes!" Jesse's handler, Seamus, interjected. An angry Irish man. Or was he Scottish? To be perfectly honest, Jesse didn't care. He hadn't been allowed two minutes of privacy since they took him out of cell back in Arizona, and was traded around between enough handlers for him to not bother learning more than their name.

With a smirk Jesse holstered his gun with a dramatic final twirl. He knew the other agents hated him. Some seventeen year old punk kid randomly shows up then proceeds to show them up in nearly every drill Reyes could throw at him. The worst bit was, no one was allowed to know who he was or why he was recruited so young. Reyes told the senior officers, but to most members of the organization he was just some arrogant kid who knew he was better than them.

Another ten minutes went by in silence as Seamus kept watch over the square.

Another fifteen…

Another twenty…

Another hour. Jesse was not a patient man. Waiting made him anxious and being anxious made him twitchy. He tried to hold his hands still, but it became clear that they needed their medicine. He pulled out a box of cigarettes from his jacket along with a lighter he lifted from a shop they passed by when they landed.

"you can't smoke in here. Hey, where'd ya get that lighter?" Jesse hadn't even had chance to light it.

"Ain't you supposed to be watching for the mark?"

"I have two eyes. You can't smoke in here, Its against restaurant regulations."

"We're just using it for cover. Overwatch owns the place, I'm sure it'll be fine." Jesse lit the end of his cigarette, but before he could take a drag, Seamus reached over and snuffed it out with his thumb and forefinger. "Fine, I'll be in the alley." Jesse got up from their booth.

"Keep your com open . I don't want to hear you running off."

"yeah yeah yeah…" Jesse muttered. He made his way into the alley next to the bar they were in. Finally with a shred of privacy, he breathed in his toxic medicine and calmed down a little. He held his hand out steady. Steadier than a surgeon. Good, nothing worse than a sharpshooter with a twitchy finger.

With his newly acquired peace, he thought about the mission. There were six of them. Seamus and Mccree were in the bar with main eyes on the square. Two more were perched in what Jesse assumed was an abandoned church steeple, and then one on the north and south ends of the square respectively. Each position located perfectly to view anybody coming in or out of the square through the more trafficked areas as well as the back alleys like the one Mccree was in. Their positions could also be used as a defensive hold incase a fire fight broke out. The formation was completely tactically sound, at least, from a military point of view.

"idiots… " Mccree couldn't help but murmur under his breath. Their formation was perfect for looking for anomalies. Foreign intruders. Years of fighting omnics created soldiers who have forgotten espionage. Overwatch was created to unify nations. To unify humanity. They had yet to readjust to having human targets. That is why Jesse was the only one watching the café across the way. A café full of people. Jesse watched the way they ordered food, the way they talked to their fellow patrons. The way they scratched an itch. Jesse watched them act like a heard of dumb bison at a watering hole. He also watched the three who didn't.

Two men, dressed nicer than their builds or mannerisms suggested they had any right to be, and a waiter who didn't wait. All three were clearly looking for a sign expectantly. The men in suits would occasionally make subtle signals to the other. From the glances they shared, it was apparent that the marked one of Jesse's team, probably the agent watching the south side of square. They shared a nod then one of the men gestured for the waiter to bring him their check.

Jesse took that as his cue to get into position. He ducked further into his alley and started making his way along the backroads to a point slightly east of the square. If they saw Jesse's man to the south then they probably figured there was another one watching the other escape routes to the north. That meant that whatever trade Overwatch got wind of was cancelled. The buyer would be able to sneak away, if he was smart, but the seller had to move the merchandise to a safe spot. The cowboy knew all to well the feeling of a deal gone south. If he was still running with his gang, there would be two options in a situation like this. Option A, play dead. Wait for the heat to die down a little. Would work better if they weren't using civilians as camouflage, so if they were smart they would go with option B.

" _I see movement. Mccree, get your ass back here."_ Seamus's voice rang in Jesse's ear. A quick tap of his finger and his mic was disabled. A little chaos was just what the team needed. " _I see about five of them."_ Jesse knew that meant there would be at least six, probably seven. " _Johnson, you got eyes on the ones by the fountain?"_

" _roger that. He looks like he's making a move for the package. Henry. See if you can get sights on what's in the trunk. Where the hell is Mccree?"_

" _I got eyes on the big guy. The trunk contai-HOLY SH-"_

Jesse heard the explosion even without his earpiece. The sounds of the ensuing fight were blaring in his ear. Sounds of his team calling out shots and positions followed by the occasional use of profanity and the desperate plea for their missing team. They were a man down compared the weapons dealers who knew if lying low wasn't an option, then the opposite tactic of creating the biggest scene possible was the only logical step. His team was well fortified in their positions and they cut off the major choke points of their target's escape routes. They would be fine. The heavy artillery could be avoided easily with their years of war experience. They didn't need Mccree to survive the smoke. And besides, this way both teams were a man down.

Jesse whistled to himself as he mozied his way through the alleys. Taking the occasional drag from his cigarette as the chaos ensued a few blocks over. When he found an opening next to a street with several parked cars, he stopped, found himself a good place to lean, and pulled out one of his flashbangs. They were a lot nicer than the molotov cocktails he made do with back in the states. Easy to grab, good weight to them, their blast had a timer, and, best of all, he didn't have to waste his lighter on them. They were real nice. And as soon as McCree heard the sound of running feet, he pulled his Stetson down over his eyes and tossed it into the street.

Flash.

Four men stood in from of Jesse, clutching their eyes. One of the men from the café was out front, followed by two gentlemen, and then a fourth man who was beginning to recover. Jesse but a bullet in his head first, followed by the man at the front. He was told minimum casualties, but the situation went more south than his new boss anticipated.

"Reach for the sky. No sudden movements." Jesse wasn't sure if either of the men left alive spoke English, but he learned that a certain tone of voice and a gun in your face was understood internationally. He gestured to the suitcase the smaller of the two had. "drop it." He did. Mcree made another gesture with his gun for the two men to back away. Jesse walked over the case and started feeling up the men, riffling through their pockets until he found his target. The man's cellphone.

Cooley , he attached the device Overwatch gave him to its port and began the process of cloning the device. Names, contact information, locations. All info this group had on weapon exchange in Europe were placed in safely in Overwatch's databanks. Mission accomplished. Mccree unhooked his device and placed the man's cell phone back into his breast pocket. He then picked up their case and started making his way back to the noise in the square, whistling the theme of an old western he watched as a kid.

He heard the rustle of fabric and quickly turned around firing his six-shooter. He suspected they'd try to shoot him from the fear in their eyes. Men too afraid to try to kill a man until his back was turned. Now the coward stood their clenching his hand, two fingers missing, with his gun broken on the ground.

"Now now partner, Bossman needs you alive. Now git." He motioned with his gun toward their get away car. They muttered some phrase that Jesse didn't need to speak German to understand before they got in their getaway car and drove off.

Jesse began his walk back to the firefight in the square. His new boss needed a report and if he didn't save his squad, then he'd have to fill out the paperwork. And if their was one thing Jesse hated more than waiting, it was paperwork.


	3. Chapter 3

Angela Ziegler loved Torbjorn lindholm. She loved all the lindholms. When she lost her family during the omnic crisis, the lindholms took her in and raised her as one of their own. When she showed her aptitude towards both biochemistry and nanotechnology, they were supportive and helped her in her studies. When she received her M.D. after fellowshipping at fourteen, the lindholms couldn't be prouder. When she expressed interest in going back to school after the Omnic Crisis had ended to get her Ph.D and masters in engineering, Torbjorn vouched for her at his Alma mater. Angela Ziegler loved Torbjorn lindholm .

And she worried sick about him.

Being the war hero that he was and decorated field agent, Torbjorn often found himself in treacherous conditions. Angela could still remember visiting him in Istanbul only to find a bloody stump where his left arm should be. Not six months ago , she remembered vividly tossing an turning in her sheets at night, thinking about the man who cared and protected her in a den of murderers and villains that could tear him limb from prosthetic limb. Commander Reyes came to him needing his technological expertise. They needed away to track and locate stolen U.S. weaponry and technology. A gang of blood thirsty arms dealers had been terrorizing the American south west. The only Americans that Angela knew were Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison and they were fighters; gritty and intense as a soldier could be. If any group of people could bring a country full of men like that to its knees, Angela didn't want her or her loved ones anywhere near them. But Commander Reyes and Torbjorn decided the best course of action was to plant the genius behind enemy lines. Sabotage them from within.

And so for three months, Angela worried. She worried what they'd do to him if they discovered his ruse. She agonized over the thought of him tied up in a desert, left to starve. Her dreams were filled with scenes of Commander Reyes coming to her hospital in Switzerland Delivering news that death had come like the Reaper himself. Angela worried all the time until he came back.

When Torbjorn did come back, she took a small vacation from her work and schooling to visit The lindholms in Sweden. The food Ingrid made alone was worth the flight, but seeing Torbjorn back lifted her spirits as though they had their own pair a Angel's wings. She sat around the table with her foster family as The head of the home told stories of his three month stint as a biker in New Mexico. How he would gather information like with his technical prowess and "certified Swedish style ninja training". But most of all, he told stories of the battles he saw. He would recount the tale as if it were a fairy tale or bedtime story as to not scare his smaller children, but that didn't hide the danger or daring do. The most prominent figure in the stories of the far west was Jesse "Deadeye" Mccree. A man so quick he could shoot a bolt of lightning out of the air before it hit the ground and so ruthless that the devil himself went to him for advise. Stories of how the gang could ride into battle against some of the most fortified holds in the U.S. and leave not a sole left standing. How he once saw that devil Deadeye kill eight men with only six bullets. And, of course, he told them about how the noble men of Overwatch, lead by the dashingly handsome Torbjorn Lindholm, did battle with the gang until only Deadeye was left. He didn't go down without a fight, firing off his sidearm with extreme prejudice, but the combined tactical brilliance of Reyes and Lindholm was too much for that snake.

The younger kids loved that story. Angela didn't. Being a surgeon for the swiss military during the tail end of war had given her a new perspective on men like those in the deadlock gang. Men like Jesse Mccree. Men who valued another's life the same way a virus would; as nothing more than something to kill for their own benefit. Men twisted by the waves of war so that violence was not just a necessity, but a pleasure. Men who worked for a world where kindness could be such a rarity as to go extinct. She feared and pitied him.

But Torbjorn was safe, and for three months he been working with Commander Reyes at Overwatch's Swiss base. It had been so nice having him close enough to visit occasionally. His skill and experience in machinery had been greatly appreciated in her work towards her masters and his jovial personality was a genuine treat to visit after a rough surgery or long week at work.

Angela made her ways through the halls of Overwatch's Swiss base, her current thesis project in hand. Some blueprints and notes she wrote up on nano technology in regards to surgical practices. It was giving her more trouble than she originally thought. So, she thought she'd talk to an expert. Being one of the view civilians with a clearance pass this far into the base had its perks.

When she got to Torbjorn's office, she noticed two things. First, she could hear Commander Reyes and Torbjorn discussing something behind the door. This wasn't surprising. The senior officers of Overwatch often met privately to discuss the current affairs of organization and the world. The strategies to deal with the problems and so forth. Angela personally didn't approve of the militaristic approach that Commander Morrison and Reyes seemed to favor. But she also knew that it was not her place to say as much, especially at times when they spoke behind close doors and she did not have clearance for that.

No, what was rather interesting, however, was the agent currently sitting in one of the chairs against the wall near Torbjorn's office. While most agents under Morrison kept themselves strictly well kept and disciplined, this agent had a mop of unkept brown hair that he hid under an American style wide brimmed hat. He was slouched in the chair, legs crossed and fully extended. His uniform looked different than the overwatch uniforms she was used to seeing. Gone were the bright hopeful blues and whites and replaced with varying shades of subdued greys and red neckerchief around his neck.

The agent was still as a statue and Angela could hear the relaxed breathing coming from beneath his hat. Most men at the compound were orderly and disciplined, so seeing someone so casually napping caught her by surprise. Nevertheless, she came this far to see Torbjorn about her project. She sat down on one of the other chairs in the hall and pulled out her notes.

Thumbing through them for the third time today, she began making small edits here and there. If her math was right , the nanites she was working on _should_ be able to jump start certain cellular functions in body tissue to make the healing process smoother and quicker and hopefully bypass certain minor surgeries all together. They should, but only _if_ her math was right and she could get the electrical charges to sustain the nanites long enough to not be corroded by the bodies natural defenses. Which was easier said than done with the fragility that came with working with a structure this small and complex. Over simplifying and reducing the design would rend the nanite completely incapable of targeting specific strands of D.N.A. within the cell, but making it to bulky would lose the finesse needed to enter the cell without damaging it. Using a non standard material for the tiny machine could cause a negative reaction in the body and out sourcing the energy source would only-

"You some kinda pilot?" The voice took her out of her work. American accent. She turned and saw that the agent had sat up little straighter and was looking at her blueprints. He was younger than she originally thought. Couldn't be older than his early twenties. A little bit of scruff on him, but his most distinguishing characteristic was his eyes. They looked relaxed, but she could tell by the depth they had and the way he slowly looked at her work that they were taking everything in. Every sketch mark and erased equation was analyzed.

"No, its actually a medical instrument I'm working on." Angela replied unfolding a part of the blueprint so the agent could get a better look. Instead he turned his gaze to her.

"Medical? You a nurse then?" he sat up even straighter, leaning slightly into the conversation. His eyes now studying her with the same relaxed intensity as he was previously examining her work.

"actually, I'm a doctor. Well, medical Doctor. Hopefully this project will help me with my Ph.D."

"Doctor? No way. You don't look like you're a day over 21."

"Well your partially right. I'm 17 and one of the top surgeons you'll ever meet." Though the war did streamline the process of producing surgeons to help with injured soldiers, Angela was still quite proud as being so accomplished at such a young age.

"A surgeon? Ok, prove it." The young man extended his hand horizontally. Angela was surprised at how steady it was. Only some of the best surgeons could keep their hand that steady. Luckily for her, she was one of the best. She stuck her hand out level with his and gave him a winner's smirk. He returned the smirk and they both turned their attention to their hands suspended centimeters apart.

Their battle of wills lasted several seconds. Each occasionally taking a glance at their opponent. Angela had to admit, this agent was steady… and cute. In a sort of rugged rouge-esque way. Eventually their battle did come to a close when a small tremor ran it's way through the young man's ring finger. With a sigh he leaned back into his chair.

"Well Doc, your story checks out." He gave her a small smile that she couldn't tell if it was meant to be genuine or antagonistic. "So you here for the commander or the dwarf?" his question didn't seem to contain any malice, but she wasn't thrilled at the way he said _dwarf._

"What makes you think I'm for either?"

"Well, Doc, as far as I see it, a pretty lil' Genius like you don't just sit next to guys like me. So your either picked the dwarf's workshop as a meeting place for your handsome doctor boyfriend and yourself, or you're waiting for someone in the workshop." He then gave Angela a wink. "and between you and me, I'm kinda hoping you don't have a boyfriend."

"I was hoping lieutenant Lindholm could help me refine some of my designs." Angela suddenly found her papers very interesting. She tried to subdue the red that was creeping into her cheeks. Most of her peers have been a decade or more her senior, so finding a reasonably young and attractive person express interest in her was not something she was accustomed to. "were you planning to talk with Torbjorn as well?"

"Nah." He reclined further into his chair. "Boss wanted to go over some tech we got with him before a briefing. Asked me to wait out here." Angela risked a glance at the man while he was talking about something other than herself. "Say Doc, didn't catch your name." he said resettling his eyes on her. Angela felt the need to reposition some loose strands of hair under the gaze of his deep brown eyes.

"Angela Ziegler… M.D." She mentioned he doctorate as a way to gain some composure. This no name agent was making her blush more than she had that one time a bunch of university juniors panicked after finding out she was just 13 after a failed attempt to flirt. "and yours?"

He took his hat from his head and gave her small nod. "friends call me Jesse."

"Jesse" she tested the name out. It sounded familiar, but his intense brown eyes and cunning smile made her too flustered to remember where she heard it. "That sounds-"

Her thoughts were cut off by the door to Torbjorn's office workshop being thrown open. "On your feet, mutt. Lieutenant Lindholm managed to trace those files you got from Riga. Go get Richards and meet us in A-47." Reyes's voice was just as commanding as ever. He then noticed the petite doctor sitting next to Jesse. "and stop fraternizing with the civilians."

"see ya around, Doc." Jesse stood up quickly and replaced his hat upon his head. He gave her a smile over his shoulder before disappearing around a corner.

"I'm sorry if he was bothering you, Dr. Ziegler. He's new and we haven't quite... broken him in yet." Gabriel said.

"no no, he didn't bother me."

"Good. Torbjorn, would you mind fetching Simmons for me when you're done with Angela?" the tall american turned to the dwarf. Before beginning to make his way after jesse.

"Not a problem Reyes." The stout Swede called after Commander Reyes. "Now, Angela. What brings you to my office. Again, we do apologize for anything Mccree might have said."

"Its fine Torbjorn. He was completely…" _Mccree? Jesse Mccree? Jesse 'Deadeye' Mcree!?_ " THAT, was Jesse Mccree?" Angela turned on her friend only to find the dwarf had gone pale. As if he had let some grand Overwatch Intel escape.

"Well, erm.. You see… Uh…"


	4. Chapter 4

" So what are we looking at exactly?" the largest of the crew asked. After gathering the needed agents, Reyes hearded them into an ORCA for transport. He went briefly over their mission and was now going over the info they got from Latvia.

"This is the trade route for the weapons being smuggled into Europe. According to the info we got in Latvia, most of the heavy artillery originated from east Asia from a group known as 'the dragons' before making it's way to several heavily armed storehouses through out northern Europe." Reyes explained bringing up the information on the ORCA's holodeck.

"okay, but then why are we headed torward Russia? Why not hit the storehouses?" Richards asked.

Mccree was the one to answer. "because, partner, if we take out a storehouse, then they'll just reinforce the others." Mccree said, rolling a cigarette with slightly jittery fingers.

"Mccree is right. The only way to put an end to this operation is to either hit all the storehouse simultaneously, or cut off the supply route. Which brings us to this." Commander Reyes pressed a button on the holodeck's panel, bring up an enhanced image of what looked like a maglev train winding through the altai mountains. "These 'dragons' managed to repair an old omnic supply line used during to beginning stages of the crisis and were able to redirect it away from its original end point. Our mission is to commandeer the train, follow it to the origin point, and cut off the supply of artillery. Once their source of firepower is cut off, we'll be able to systematically take down different traffic points for the buyers and put an end to these profiteers." He pressed another button, and bay doors opened on the cold air above the tracks. "now on your feet boys. We have a train to catch." Most of the men saluted their commanding officer and got into position. Mccree took this time light his cigarette. "Mccree, you're with me on this one."

"Don't think I can handle it?" Mccree tried this best to take a drag despite the wind. "Clearly the dwarf didn't tell you how we handled that shipment in Reno."

"the train in Reno wasn't going 400 k." Reyes said strapping himself into the harness. "And stop calling him the dwarf. Lieutenant lindholm is your commanding officer. You will show him respect."

The rest of the team got the gear ready and went over their tasks one more time. Simmons and Seamus would take the last cars; Reyes, Mccree and Richrads would secure the main freight cars and dismantle the weaponry; and Johnson would take the command car. The ORCA began its descent when their target came into view. One by one, the men jumped into action.

Mccree jumped from the ship and fired a cable at his target. All he had to do was slide down and make his way to the split in cars. It was not as simple as he thought as the gun runners on the train were ready for them and began firing. Out of his peripheral he saw Johnson get hit several times. The majority of the trains defences seemed to be focused near the front of the train but they were now setting their sights on him.

As quick as lightning, Mccree whipped his gun toward the ORCA and shot the top of his cable. Pulse bullets whizzed through the air he was just occupying as the speed of the train threw him back toward the rear . Before he ran out of cable and slid to his doom, Mccree used the force with which the train flung him back to kick his spur into the side of the train, slowing his backwards momentum and giving him just enough time to pull himself in between two of the cars.

Mccree fired his gun on the locking mechanism on a hatch and pushed his way into the car. Three men were in but seemingly weren't expecting him coming from the direction he did. Mccree dropped them quickly with his six-shooter but before he could reload he door on the other side of the car began to open. One bullet left, Mccree aimed at the door.

After countless heists and gunfights Jesse Mccree had experienced, he thought he was prepared for anything. He, however, was caught off guard by the sight before him. One of the gun runners flew the full fifty feet of car before slamming dead into the wall beside Jesse, and his Commander, Gabriel Reyes, stood in the door riddled with bullet holes. The heavy steel door knocked in by the sheer force of his kick. But what was most surprising was the laugh coming from his wicked smile.

"Hey kid, glad you made it." Reyes said dropping both his gun arm as well as the other dead gun runner. "Nice trick with the cable. Slip right past them. Don't think Richards made it though and I'm pretty sure Johnson's got swiss cheesed, so it looks like it's just you, me and the caboose team." Reyes chuckled has his numerous wounds started to stitch themselves close.

"With all do respect boss, it looks like you got 'cheesed' yourself." Mccree said with gun still raised. When Reyes looked down at himself and the multiple bullet holes in his uniform, he let out a healthy laugh

"HA, listen kid, for me the problem isn't when bullets go in. Its getting them out later. Focus on the task at hand. If we're going to survive, we need to take the command car. In a hundred K or so, they'll regain communication with their base. If they get wind of us before we get there, then they'll move the payload to a safe location and this whole stunt will be for nothing. You good to fight?" Mccree popped the cylinder of his gun open, replaced the bullets he shot and nodded. "Good. Cover my ass while I go ahead ad take these guys out. After we get the command car, go back and check on Seamus and the others. Let's move out."

Mccree found out that while he was able to slip into the train relatively unnoticed, going through the cars it was evident his commander did not. Shotgun blasts an pools of blood made it clear he ran in like a one man army, mowing down everything that stood in his way. And what resistance him and Mccree met on the way to the command car met with a similar fate. Mccree couldn't help but notice that while each shot slowed him down, Reyes would only need a second or two of Mccree laying down some cover fire before he was back on his feet. Each wound closing in a matter of seconds. That was, until they reached the penultimate car.

"alright kid, look alive. If these guys were smart, they'd have this car the most heavily guarded." Reyes said as he tosses a recently unloaded shotgun to the side and arming himself with another from his pack. When he kicked the door down, the two were not met with a fortified barricade as the expected, but a thin Asian man with short sword on his hip and a composite bow aimed at the two.

"get to the controls. I'll handle our fri-GAUUGH!" before Reyes could finish, an arrow struck him in the wrist, pinning him to the crate of cargo. Another arrow right through his foot and deep within the floor of the train made sure that Reyes couldn't defend himself from the Asian man charging him with his short sword drawn and eyes on Reyes throat.

He was stopped by Jesse climbing over Reyes and emptying his cylinder as fast as he could. It was an awkward shot but he did manage to hit the man in the shoulder as he dived behind more of the cargo. Jesse quickly began reloading his six-shooter, but before he could finish the ninja leapt at him from atop the stack of cargo crates. Jesse was able to block the blade with the barrel of his gun, but the force knocked it from his hand. The Ninja followed with a kick to Jesse's midsection sending him further from his firearm. He rolled to reduce damage and got to his feat before his assailant could follow up with another strike.

The cowboy stared down the ninja as the ninja stared down the cowboy. Jesse was now defenseless as far as the ninja could tell, but he hesitated. Eyes locked, each combatant looking for the opening to end the fight. Slowly circling eachother, the ninja keeping special note of where Jesse's gun was. He was baiting him, Jesse realized. 'the moment I go for the gun, he'll slit my throat'. Jesse smirked and darted for his six-shooter. At least , that's what the ninja thought. But the moment he dived in for the kill, he was blinded by a brilliant light, followed closely by a solid left hook to the face.

Stunned and disoriented from the flashbang, Jesse took advantage of his lowered guard and tackled the ninja. Trying to wrestle for control of the sword, the two rolled on the floor, taking the opportunity to land an elbow to the gut or knee to the face when it arrived. Eventually, the ninja was able to regain enough control to stand with his sword drawn, but he was only met with his opponent smiling at him from the floor with a black eye and his gun pointed at the ninja.

BANG!

The sound of the gun shot echoed through out the train car, but ninja still stood. Jesse's bullet lodged into one of the cargo crates, deflected by the brood side of the blade.

BANG!

Again, the ninja deflected.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The consecutive shots Began to overwhelm him, causing the ninja to step back with each shot, still he deflected each one, sending them into crates of cargo and one into Jesse's leg.

"Gotcha, Punk!" Unfortunately for the ninja, those steps back brought him right into the one free arm of a one Gabriel Reyes. Try as he might the ninja could not break the super soldier grip. A swift headbutt brought him down for good.

Now that the threat was seemingly over Reyes began the task of freeing himself. The arrows were deep and strong and used a unique technology that cause the tip to scatter on impact, making it impossible for Reyes to remove them even with enhanced strength. He freed himself by snapping the fetching off and sliding his flesh off the end, hissing between clenched teeth.

"you okay, kid?"

"I think so. Bastard got me in the calf, but I think I can move it. Ain't broke or anything."

"don't push yourself. We still got a few minutes before their communication come online" Reyes helped Mccree into a sitting position before handing him a med kit from his pack. "Here, try to get yourself fixed up while I secure the command car.

The rest of the trip went much smoother. Reyes took command of the train Seamus and Simmons disposed of the bodies and got their trap ready. The ninja was restrained and after examining the body, they decided to keep him alive for questioning about "the dragons" after discovering a tattoo resembling the creatures. As the train pulled into the station and what was hopefully the base of this weapons dealing operation, the final pieces of the plan were falling into place.

"Now remember Mccree, we have the element of surprise, but that is only a tactical advantage so long as we're are able to maintain control. Do not do anything stupid or I will make your next few weeks hell. Do you understand me?"

"yes, sir".

"Good." As Mccree and Reyes ended their conversation, Reyes looked out into the loading bay and saw two rather burly Russians. One taking healthy swigs from a bottle of vodka. "ok Mccree I see two hostiles, I need you to flan-Mccree?" Reyes looked back into the car and saw that the cowboy was not there. But turning his attention back to the loading bay, he found Mccree limping over to the two men.

"….privet…?" one of the men questioned.

Mccree took a generous drag from his cigarette, took the vodka from the man, downed it, and answered.

"Pree- vet to you too."

"*sigh* dammit…"


	5. Chapter 5

Most twelve year olds were obsessed with some kind of hero figure. For some it was pop stars and actors, for others it was athletes or superheroes. Fareeha Amari was obsessed with war heroes. How could she not be? Her entire life was spent around these larger than life personas with unquestionable moral fortitude. Her babysitter was a German goliath who mowed down legions of killer robots with a rocket powered hammer. Her godfather was an unkillable super soldier and tactical genius. Her own mother was the famed "Eye of Horus", deadliest sniper in the world. These gods among men were her heroes. She wanted to be like them. She wanted to know everything about them.

And she kept very close track of them.

When she began hearing rumors at her mother's Swiss base of a new recruit who had a mysterious past and was showing every other agent up in the training practices, young Fareeha's curiosity was peaked. When she learned that this new recruit single handedly saved a small group of overwatch agents in Latvia, she began to be excited. And when she learned he saved Gabriel Reyes's life in Russia, she knew she just had to meet him.

She also learned that her mom needed to stop leaving work documents on the kitchen table.

And that's why Farreha was following the young man. Watching. Learning. Like a falcon stalking her prey. Do Falcons stalk prey? It didn't matter. She was being super sneaky. He just left the training grounds and was making his way to the barracks. Oh so silently, Fareeha followed down the corridor in the Swiss base. But when she turned the corner after him, the new mystery man was gone. Vanished into thin air maybe that's what his cool ability was?

Suddenly, Fareeha was lifted into the air by the scruff of he overwatch hoodie. "PUT ME DOWN! I KNOW KUNG FU!" a gloved hand covered her mouth before any further protests could be made.

"listen kid, I know you've been eyeballing me for the past twenty minutes. But imma go take a shower now, and I don't need some pervy twelve year old getting me into any more trouble. I'm already doing double duty." When he was done, he dropped fareeha on the ground. Despite her years of martial arts training, Fareeha couldn't manage to not fall on her butt. "now go read a magazine on k-pop or something."

"WAIT! Can I at least ask you some questions? Please?" she said scrambling to her feet. Come on Amari, this is your shot. Puppy dog eyes. "Pretty please".

"Uuugh. Fine"

Nailed it.

"You're Jesse Mccree, right?"

"that's classified" so yes

"Is it true that you were specially recruited because of some crazy talent?"

"yup."

"-and you totally saved Gabriel's life by fighting off some crazy train ninja?"

"… Commander Reyes's first name is Gabriel?"

"then I only have one question for you?!"

"you already asked three…"

"What is your crazy skill? Teleporting? Invisibility? Super strength? Why did Overwatch pick you?"

Jesse grinned at the kid, tipped his hat and responded. "They picked me because I'm the best shot there ever was. Ain't no one as quick or as sharp." Jesse demonstrated by firing a finger gun into the distance. This didn't elicit the response Jesse was expecting.

"you're a sharpshooter? That's it?"

"what do you mean 'that's it'?" Mccree responded indignantly.

"No offense Mr. Mccree, I'm sure you're a fine shot and everything, but Overwatch already has the best shot in the world. I just figured you'd be more, I don't know, special?"

"Look here, kid, I don't know who here thinks they're a pretty good shot, but I'm Jesse 'deadeye' Mccree, and there ain't nobody who's a better shot than me." Jesse said gesturing to himself as if that was simplest fact there was.

"is that so?" so engrossed in their conversation, neither of the two children noticed the woman in the blue coat walk down the hall torward them. "pretty bold words. But can you back them up?"

"Captain Amari?" Jesse straightened up and tried to make it look as if he was not just arguing with a small child. Captain Amari was the one officer on base that no one would mess with, and Jesse could see why. Her whole persona gave off an air of intimidation and dignity, and Jesse couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something that made looking her in her eyes uncomfortable.

"At ease Mccree. What were you discussing with my daughter?" Captain Amari placed a hand on the young girl's shoulder.

"ma'am, your daughter was just asking me what skills I brought to Overwatch."

"And what did you tell her"

Mccree couldn't help but smirk at her with pride. "that I was the best damn shot there ever was, ma'am"

"Oh, we'll see about that. Meet me at the practice range in ten minutes." Captain Amari turned with her daughter to leave. "I would also appreciate it if you didn't use such vulgar language in front of my daughter again."

"yes ma'am"

"Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice , Dr. Ziegler." Gabriel Reyes said to the young doctor as the two of them were leaving Ovewatch's medical wing. The American super soldiers' accelerated healing made traditional surgery rather complicated. Organs trying to heal into unnatural arrangements, bones needing to constantly be broken and reset, and the effects of the anesthesia wearing off far sooner than traditional human biology required the best surgeons. This meant that Overwatch needed to outsource those procedures for even, regrettably, routine procedures, such as the removal of shrapnel and bullets. The officers of Overwatch were lucky to have such close ties to one of the best surgeons in Switzerland.

"It's my pleasure Gabriel." The doctor politely answered. "but you really should be more careful. Even your body can only take so much punishment before the damage is irreversible." Angela often wondered what Gabriel did that resulted with injuries like he had without appearing in any of the news outlets she followed.

" You're right I re-" Gabriel was cut off by the buzz of his communicator. "one moment please." Gabriel put a finger to his ear, activating the mic. "Reyes…. What did he do this time… did he now… the shooting range?... thank you lieutenant." He turned back to the young doctor. "before I escort you off of the base, would you perhaps care to see one of our agents learn a lesson in humility?" Gabriel asked. "I have a feeling this might be entertaining.

By the time Gabriel and Angela made their way to the practice range, quite a crowd had formed of Overwatch's agents. Many came in hopes of seeing Mccree's pride get taken down a few notches, others came to see two masters at their craft perform, while others came hoping to make a quick buck on a wager.

Past the crowds the two sharpshooters stood. Each had a table near them with various firearms. Handguns, assault rifles, long range precision guns. Down range from the two, the carnage showed that their competition was well under way. Each would take turns attempting to shoot different targets with the different firearms available. Sometimes they had fire at multiple targets as quickly as possible. Other rounds consisted of moving targets with varying degrees of speed and erratic movements.

"ANGELA! Is that you?" the two newcomers turned to see a giant of a man come torward them speaking with his iconic German zeal. "and you too Gabriel! How are you my friends?"

"Reinhardt! It's so good to see you!" Angela went up to large man and embraced him. "I'm doing well getting a PhD is proving more challenging than I thought, but I'm learning so much. But what's all this?" Angela gestured to the crowd watching the two gunmen.

"HAHA, You won't believe it! According to Fareeha, this rookie gunslinger told Ana that he was by far the better gunman. So, naturally, our Ana decided to teach him a lesson on respecting his elders. Word got out and some of the men decided to make a show out of it! I have quite a bit riding on Ana myself!" the large German let out another hearty laughs clapping Gabriel on the back.

"how's the kid doing?" Gabriel inquired after the sound of a gunshot went off, followed quickly by five consecutive more.

"WUNDERBAR! That's what makes this so exciting!" the three walked around to get a better view of the competition, and, sure enough, it was a lot closer than anybody anticipated. Jesse was noticeably faster at lining up shots and often did better on the rounds where there were multiple targets. However, he never was able to gain an advantage over Ana. Her precision was still unmatched and tended to do well on the moving targets. "I think they're going to do the final round now! ISN'T THIS EXCITING?" Reinhardt exclaimed.

"I'm going to see if I can have a word with Mccree. Reinhardt, please escort Dr. Ziegler out when you're done." Gabriel started making his way through the crowds, leaving Reinhardt and Angela alone.

"So Angela, tell me about your studies. Torbjorn tells me your work in nano surgery is groundbreaking." Reinhardt asked his companion.

"It is, or it will be. Hopefully. I'm confident that my design for the nanite stream I'm working on is sound, but without testing it I won't get enough funding to build a prototype." Angela responded less enthusiastic than she was trying to sound.

"Forgive my ignorance, but how do you test a machine without building a prototype?" the knight asked quizzically.

"Well, what we usually do is have the quantum computer in the University's lab run several simulations to prove the efficacy of the design before acquiring the materials for constructing the device. With so many resources being rerouted to the relief efforts, they want to be sure the project is worth the investment."

"I see."

"But with so many brilliant minds working on their own projects, all with far more seniority than myself, it's hard to get access to the simulator for enough time to run my designs through it. It's rather frustrating." Angela let out a defeated huff.

"Angela, my friend, I may be of some help to you. Off the coast of Genoa, Overwatch has a small compound that Commander Morrison is planning on converting into an ecopoint to study climate change in the Mediterranean. I am leaving for there this weekend to help prepare it and its currently unattended quantum computer for the change. Come with me with your designs and we'll keep this strictly hush hush between the two of us. You can use the quantum computer to get to the next step in you project, and I get some much needed company! What do you say?" Reinhardt said with a large grin.

"Reinhardt, that sounds wonderful. Thank you so much." Angela couldn't help but to wrap her friend in the biggest hug she could, even if she couldn't reach all the way around his large frame.

The final target bobbed lazily 2,500 meters away. Jesse watched it carefully, rifle in hand, studying its movements, trying to figure a pattern that would make lining up his shots easier. This little shoot-out him and captain Amari had going was closer than he anticipated. Being part of the _weapons industry_ definitely clued him in on some of the bigger fish in the world. While his commander, Gabriel Reyes managed to fly under the radar, Overwatch's more public figures did not. Jesse knew of "Horus", and seeing her skill now made him realize why she was so famous. Her aim was straight up unnatural. Still, Jesse managed to keep pace. He didn't get the nickname "deadeye" for nothing.

"Fareeha, come here for a moment." Ana Amari interrupted Jesse's concentration. He took his eye off the target and lowered his rifle. What was she planning?

"Yes mom." The kid happily bounded up to her mother. Captain Amari took out a small tool and started adjusting the scope of her rifle. After completely removing it, she handed it to her daughter.

"I won't be needing this to win. Why don't you hold on to it for me?"

Won't be needing her scope? There was no way she'd be able to take down a moving target from that far away. What was her game? Jesse couldn't help thinking. Even if she could hit the target, there's no way she could get a cluster that would out score Jesse. Even still, he couldn't block out the quiet murmur going through the crowd.

He could feel a small tremor go through his trigger finger. Jesse told himself to focus and took a deep breath and held it. Raising the rifle again, he lined up his first shot. Steady. Focus.

He fired his first shot. The final target shuddered. He got it. Looking down the scope again, he found where the first shot landed and fired his last two shots. The grouping was tight from what he could see. His confidence restored. He placed his rifle back on the table and stood back to let Captain Amari take her final shots.

Before stepping up, Amari gave Jesse a wink, took her stance, and closed her left eye. Jesse couldn't help but feel confident with himself as he watched her line up a shot. There's no way she could hit it without a scope. Even his peacekeeper had sights on it, and that was for much closer range. But he watched the target sway as she hit with her first shot.

Then her second.

Then her third.

She had hit the target with each shot, and as the targets were brought back Jesse could already see her grouping was much tighter than his.

He had lost. The crowd of spectators cheered from behind him. Many agents exchanged money on the bets they took, some shouted at Mccree for their lost money while more shouted to mock his arrogance that he had had earlier, and others just happy for the show. The little girl ran up to give her mother a hug and to blow raspberries at Jesse when she caught his eye. But through it all, Jesse just stared at the targets. He had lost. She didn't even need a scope. He almost didn't notice when a powerful arm clapped his shoulder.

"If you're done playing games kid, I have a job I need you to take care of." Reyes said as he lead him away from the crowd.


	6. Chapter 6

Dr. Ziegler couldn't help but be slightly annoyed at the lack of space in the tiny overwatch vehicle taking them through the Italian city. She loved Reinhardt, but he took up so much space. On top of that, she ended up sharing what space she did have with young Fareeha.

'Angela, I heard you and Reinhardt will be going to Genoa this weekend. Could you be a dear and watch Fareeha? I have an important assignment in Beijing and her father is still in Canada. Thank you.' It didn't matter how accomplished a surgeon or how many degrees she had, it was hard for some of Overwatch's senior staff to see her as anything but Angela the babysitter.

Still, she got the parameters for the simulation she needed from her professor and they were simple enough. After a dozen hours or so, the rest of the week will just be her, the beautiful Italian architecture, and a cozy little beach not too far from where they'd be staying. Fareeha was easy enough to pawn off on to Reinhardt to make this vacation worth it and the child wasn't so bad as to ruin it anyway

"Where's the base anyway?" Angela was pulled from her thoughts at the sound of her preteen companion.

"its just off the coast on a small man made island." Reinhardt answered.

"why is it on an island?"

"You see young Fareeha, early in the war, hostile omnics would attack our allies to the east by emerging from deep below the Pacific. To counter, we built these monitoring stations with super computers to look for the enemy in our own waters. They even had special holding cell to keep captured omnics to hook up to the super computer so that it could run countless simulations to predict where they would attack from next." As Reinhardt told the two women about their destination, their vehicle approached a much smaller building near the docks.

"Wait, if it's in the middle of the sea, why are we taking a car? Shouldn't we get their in some kind of cool aircraft?" Fareeha was full of questions today.

"Haha, I didn't want to spoil the surprise. One second please." The car stopped in front of what appeared to be a single car garage a few miles from the docks. Reinhardt got out and spoke with a man at the door. After showing his security clearance and orders from Commander Morrison, Reinhardt returned to the two waiting as patiently as a seventeen year old and a twelve year old could. "our air force at the time was no match for the omnics, so we had to fight them down on the ground face to face. Man to machine. Because of that, Gabriel had the idea to install this." As the car drove into the garage, it became apparent that the garage was not a garage, but the entrance to a tunnel that went along the sea floor. What caught the girls' eye about this particular tunnel was the windows that reached from the base of the walls to the center of the arched ceiling that showed the a well lit ocean floor. The tunnel was wide enough for an infantry company to pass through quickly with manned turrets every thirty meters. "The glass for the windows is one way, making it effectively invisible from the outside. LOOK FAREEHA! Do you see that pile of scrap just beyond those rocks? Let me tell you the tale of how ol' Reinhardt had to man the turrets on one crossing and downed nearly a hundred omnic sentries!"

The rest of the car ride went by with the German knight sharing what Angela assumed were greatly embellished tales of heroics that he and the rest of overwatch performed during the war. While politely indulging the two when addressed directly, she did block out most of the conversation in favor of going over her research notes again. Her calculations had to be flawless.

The car eventually resurface from the tunnel on to the base about a mile out to sea. It was much smaller than the Swiss base she was used to seeing and with much fewer men operating It.

"Excuse me, Reinhardt, but would be ok if I go prep the quantum processor for the simulator?" Angela asked as three exited the car. "I know you do have quite the task ahead of you, repurposing the whole base, so I would like to get out of your hair as soon as possible."

"OF COURSE! Right this way, ladies." Reinhardt lead them in through what looked to be some sort of aircraft hanger that was currently being used for Storage. Large boxes and shipping containers filled the area creating a labyrinth to navigate through. Some of the containers were newer that looked to be new environmental equipment to be installed once Reinhardt prepped the base. The older containers were marked with multiple warnings and caution tape identifying the content as dangerous. Overhead was a series of catwalks that lead to different terminals that correlated to different transmitters and receives near the top of the structure.

Angela wasn't so naive as to think that all weaponry was unnecessary, but she did feel better knowing that Commander Morrison was taking steps to demilitarize a few of Overwatch's resources. She did have to wonder why they're were so many dangerous materials and heavy weaponry on what she understood to be a primarily early warning system.

"Are these all the weapons from the base?" Angela asked he guide

"Weapons, experimental technology, as well as some hazardous material accumulated through experimentation on captured P.O.W.s . It does seem like a lot. The east hanger isn't nearly as full." The knight explained.

"Wow, what's in all these boxes?" Fareeha inquired.

"Mostly supplies for the soldiers that were stationed here. Three or four men could man the base on their own for several months without having an opportunity to be resupplied. So we made sure the base was always stocked. These containers are full of mostly food rations, medical supplies, and ammunition. Additionally, a few have specialized equipment for the soldiers with more unique skill sets. For example, I have an older version of my crusader armor stored away in a bright red container in the other hanger from when I was stationed here after taking one too many bullets in Prague. Now that's a story. It was just Lindholm, a few boys from Denmark, and myself who had to fend off a whole battalion of omnics. There we were…" Reinhardt went on to wow Fareeha with his tales of heroics as they made their way through the boxes to the computer room.

When they finally got through the hanger and past the barracks to the inner command center, Angela was beginning to get a little on edge. This was becoming much more of a hassle than she originally thought.

"Here it is Angela, right through this door is the main console for the quantum computer. Just use this clearance code and it should give you full access." Reinhardt handed the young doctor a folded sheet of paper that contained the security protocols Commander Morrison gave him to follow. "feel free to take as long as you need. Fareeha, would mind accompanying me to the see how well the anti aircraft cannon decommissioning is going? I hear lieutenant Thatcher was here last week and you know how she gets about her cannons."

"you bet. She probably left lipstick all over her 'babies'!" the Egyptian preteen giggled along with the knight's hardy laugh.

Angela smiled at her two friends as they walked towards the deconstructed artillery. "Thank you again, Reinhardt!" she called after them. Turning back to the door they left her by, she quickly found the key code on the paper Reinhardt had given her and punched it in. Finally, after months of designing and redesigning, calculating and recalculating, she could begin the next step on her nanite stream. The caduceus project.

When she opened the door she was greeted with the gleaming floor to ceiling sublight tower, the beautifully ergonomic user interface, and the pristine sensation of cutting edge technology.

She was also greeted with a scruffy looking cowboy with his feet up on the desk, his hand hovering over his gun, a game of solitaire on the monitor, and a quizzical look on his face.

"Doc? What are you doing here?"


End file.
